Politics (I): “Facili[gator] tears!”

When the person you fell in love with so 

foolishly that summer was only a

facilitator of moves towards grander schemes and 

means which meant, unequally, those tight-

fisted writes and 

wrongs quite unholy, and reports – holy moly! – and retorts 

and torts way behind the scenes, and foughts and a

multitude of legal and illegal teachings,

you must realise the extent to which a party 

you were late to,

and truly did once love with all your sport, 

has been protected by

pretty ugly and pretty casual and pretty informal outriders of

terrible chaos: these outriders who before claimed your

friendship so dear, like clan of shelled clam …

… closing in on your near.

And you deceived me so rotten, you Marys and you

Johns: the instinctual flocking together, which went just so


wrong!  So do tell me, please, with as much time 

as we’ll need, why did you make me lose my head

over a traitorous tottie 

like her?

No crocodile tears – even – shed for hobbyist me: just an

alligator troop of common interest ranged against

the lover I once could be.

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